...but I can feel the wind changing. The soft air, that was dancing on my skin, has suddenly become laden with moisture. The clouds have gone from being a casual "passer-by", to being a riotous crowd. A storm is coming and I think this time she'll come with it. She slaughtered me the last time but this time, I...I think I am ready.
It's twice the dance with this woman. She has feet that are as nimble as fairies. I lose my breath just thinking of her. At least, I think that's why. She has me so torn and tattered, I get confused over the things that baffle me. You're probably lost. So now, you are starting to empathize. Empathy is better than sympathy, because hurting alone has been done.
I can see her on the horizon. She's dressed in a long purple dress. Much longer than her body and she is walking in step to a march. She looks like a pretty Nazi with her golden hair and mechanical step. And burn me, if she doesn't have that kind of power.
All around me is flat landscape with nothing but my mind for a weapon. The last time that was used she turned it to a soft story that you would tell children at bedtime. I mean she set me back years. That kind of sorrow will eat you until it fills to the point of rage. Then you find out what kind of man you really are. Killer or poet...that breaking point is the only one I know.
So she walks up to me. The wind stops when she does. A fucking God in her control of my world. A token, in my assessment of the situation. I muster a smile and wait. She bends at the waist. A bow? For real?! Her ability to surprise will never fade. She touches my shoe with her lips, looks up slowly, and smiles.
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